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The Paternity Proposition(18)

By:Merline Lovelace


He didn't have to hit the road for Tulsa until nine. That left them plenty of time for the slow, easy session he'd originally planned for last night. Yet as much as her sleek curves and cloud of tangled hair stirred him, Alex was content to just lie beside her and watch her sleep.

A first for him, he admitted wryly. He hadn't felt the urge to simply share the same airspace with the lawyer he'd dated on and off for almost six months. Barbara Hale was as energetic as she was driven. No lazing around in bed on weekends for her. No evenings just zoning out in front of the TV. Alex had admired her restless energy until their heavy work schedules combined with her insatiable need to see and be seen at an endless stream of social events had just flat worn him out.

This was nice, he mused as he thumbed a silky auburn tangle. Very nice. The background data he'd gathered on Julie suggested she just was as powered as Barbara and every bit as good at her job. Stubborn, too. Stick-it-in-your-eye stubborn. Yet she wasn't sharp or hard at the edges. Not hard at all, he thought, smiling as he eased downward and hooked an arm over her waist to nest her against him for a few more minutes.





Alex bumped up against the stubborn part when they shared a breakfast of coffee and toaster waffles that Julie consumed with real gusto and he left pretty much untouched. She was bundled into the robe again, her hair clipped carelessly atop her head as she perched on a barstool across the counter from him. Shaking his head, Alex watched as she stabbed the last, syrup-drenched morsel.

"Beats me how you can consume cardboard with such apparent enjoyment."

"I've eaten worse." She waved her fork in an airy circle. "Besides, cardboard is pretty much in the eye of the beholder."

"Can't argue with that." He checked his watch and downed the last of his coffee. "I've got to go. Grace is picking you up at ten, right?"

"Right. She's going to help me rig out for your mom's big bash tomorrow evening."

"Speaking of which … " He warned himself to tread carefully. "I know you didn't plan on that kind of expense. How about I call the stores mother shops at and … ?"

"Don't say it!" she warned. "Don't even think it."

"Be reasonable, Julie. There's no need to drain your savings for a one-time event."

"Who says I'll wear what I buy just once?" she shot back, bristling. "I do have a life. Or I did before Agro-Air," she added under her breath.                       
       
           



       

Alex cursed his slip and tried to recover. "Look, if it makes you feel better, we can add whatever charges you run up today to the tab you insisted I keep for you."

That approach didn't work, either. If anything, it seemed to add fuel to the fire. Eyes shooting sparks, she slapped her fork onto the counter.

"I suggest you back off, Dalton. Now. Before you piss me off royally."

"I'm just trying to … "

"Trying, hell! What you're doing is coming across like a satisfied customer who wants to pay for services rendered."

He looked like she'd hauled off and taken a swing at him. Which she had. With malice aforethought.

"You know better than that."

"I do, huh? Then why do you keep making such an issue of money? Offering me a thousand dollars for a wad of spit. An all-expense paid week in the big city. Now the rich Mr. Dalton wants to deck his bed-partner out for an evening of hobnobbing with his high-class pals." She fluttered her lashes. "Gee, what's a girl supposed to think?"

"That the rich Mr. Dalton is looking out for his partner," he corrected tersely. "That I don't want her to …  Oh, hell!"

As irritated now as she was, he rounded the counter and fisted his hands in the robe's lapels.

"Do what you want to today."

"I will," she retorted.

"Just keep this in mind while you're racking up the bills. I don't care what you wear. Or don't wear. You've had me tied in knots from the moment I spotted you in those baggy coveralls."

"Ha! I saw your face when you checked me out. You looked like you couldn't believe you'd ever hooked up with someone sporting a quart of grease under her nails."

"I'll give you that. The grease did set me back a step. You made up for it the next day when you sashayed in wearing those cut-offs. I damned near swallowed my tongue."

"Oh. Well." She could feel her bristles smoothing down. "You just regained some of the headway you lost, Dalton. Keep paddling."

"I would, but I've got to go. Just believe me when I tell you I'll take you any way I can get you. In jeans and boots. Dressed to the nines. Naked. Preferably naked."

He kissed her, hard, and headed for the door. When it thudded shut, Julie sat unmoving as one chaotic question after another chased through her mind like a dog chasing its tail. What the heck had Alex meant? What kind of spin should she put on that bit about taking her any way he could get her? Had she really kicked his chocks out from under him that first day, grease and all?

And where did she fit in with his quest to find Molly's mother? What if the mother came forward? What if it was someone Alex had connected with but had denied giving birth to his child for reasons of her own?

Geesh! This was hurting her head! Grimacing, she slid off the barstool and padded to the bedroom. She needed a long, hot run to work the kinks out of her mind, followed by an equally long and very cool shower.





When she hopped into the gas-saving Civic that Grace pulled up to the curb some two hours later, Julie had settled at least some of the issues that had rattled around in her head like loose lug-nuts. Foremost among them was a decision to take Alex at his stated word.

He wanted her any way he could get her? Fine. Time he saw what the other end of the spectrum looked like. The one where she wasn't dripping sweat and splattered with engine oil.

"Change of plans," she announced as she slid in beside Grace and snapped her seatbelt. "Forget the secondhand boutique. Take me to wherever Delilah shops when she wants to pull out all the stops."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Grace hooked slender wrists over the steering wheel. "We're talking big bucks here, Julie. Extremely big."

"So we look, we try on a few things, and we walk if the price tags make us gag. Or," she postulated as Grace put the Civic in gear, "we could get lucky and catch a sale."

"It'll have to be an end-of-season, going-out-of-business, one-time-only sweep to the walls," the nanny warned.





It wasn't quite a sweep and Julie didn't actually gag, but she did choke back a gasp when she saw the price tags on the gowns at the exclusive boutique on Western Avenue. And those were the markdowns! No way she was going to blow three thousand dollars for a handful of sequins and a few yards of silk.

The second boutique they hit was smaller and more intimate but just as pricey. Sighing, Julie fingered several of the heavily beaded creations before coming down to earth with a thud.

"Much as I would like to shine at Delilah's big do," she murmured to Grace, "I can't afford something like this. We'd better … "

"Excuse me."

They turned to find a petite brunette regarding them with curious eyes. Exquisitely attired in layers of soft aqua linen pinned up on one hip with a crystal-studded dahlia the size of a dinner plate, she cocked her head.

"I couldn't help overhearing you mention Delilah. Were you by any chance referring to Mrs. Delilah Dalton?"                       
       
           



       

"Yes, I was."

"May I ask? Are you looking for something to wear to her fund-raiser tomorrow evening?"

"Yes again. But I'm afraid I can't afford your stuff, as gorgeous as it is."

The brunette tipped her head to the other side. Her bright, bird-like black eyes measured Julie from neck to knee in one, comprehensive sweep.

"The gowns you were looking at are all couture, from well established designers. I've got some things in the back by a new young designer. She drove through last month and left some samples with me in the hope I would help her break into Oklahoma City's big money oil crowd. May I show them to you?"

"Well … "

"They're far more reasonably priced than the couture gowns you were looking at. And there's one that's perfectly suited to someone with your height and coloring."

"Go on," Grace urged, digging an elbow in Julie's ribs. "What have you got to lose by looking?"

Only her share of Agro-Air's almost non-existent profits for the next six months. Oh, what the hell!

"I'm all for giving new, young designers a break."

"Good. My name's Helen, by the way. Helen Jasper. This is my shop."

"I'm Julie Bartlett, and this is Grace Templeton."

"A pleasure to meet you both. Please, have a seat and I'll show you what I have."

What she had was a stunning two-piece in shimmering gold silk. The skirt was arrow straight and slit to the thigh on one side. The strapless bodice was reinforced, cut to a deep V, and hooked in front with crystal-studded fasteners shaped like the sun, moon and stars. At least Julie hoped they were crystal. But she knew as she hooked the last, glittering star that she had to have this dress.